


How Dorian decided to stay

by Ohsoprecious



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Headcanon, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 15:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3697619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohsoprecious/pseuds/Ohsoprecious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is drunk and Iron Bull is helping. Big decisions ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Dorian decided to stay

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own personal head-canon on how and why Dorian decided to stay with my mage Trevelyan, instead of going back to Tevinter.  
> I wrote this as soon as I finished the game for the first time, so expect a lot of wishful thinking. I'm a sucker for happy endings.  
> It's been sitting on my tablet for a while and I thought I'd post it.  
> I've gone over it a few times, checking for mistakes, but english isn't my first language, so if you notice any, feel free to point them out.

"Look who's here. Been some time since I've seen you here Vint. Had a spat with the Boss?"

 

No, not really. A fight would've probably been better than what actually happened. Easier. They'd had their fair share of heated discussions in the months they'd spent together. He'd lost most of them, conceding to Alexander's way of thinking, but Bull or anyone else didn't need to know that.

 

So Dorian stayed silent, keeping his gaze firmly on the tankard full of disgusting dwarven ale he was nursing. Not that that one had been the first. He cringed as the seat next to him creaked in protest, the weight of the massive qunari coming down upon the poorly built wooden chair. 

 

"All right, what happened?"

 

"I don't see how that's any of your business, Bull," he said, his tone as acidic as possible.

 

"Because I'm the only one besides the boss who doesn't buy your bullshit. So, what happened this time, Vint? Another trinket he got for you, without asking? Did he punch a noble again?"

 

The memory brought a small smile to his face. He'd been angry at the time, furious even. He didn't need Trevelyan to defend him, especially when his own reputation was at stake. Maker knew the rumors about the evil magister corrupting the Herald of Andraste were bad enough, without him actively confirming or defending him against the slander. Not that he hadn't appreciated it afterwards, but he'd be damned if he let anyone know that.

 

"No, nothing like that."

 

"Then, what?"

 

In truth, The Iron Bull was the only person he could talk to about this. Him or Krem. They were the only ones he knew wouldn't judge him. Or run to Trevelyan. But he didn't really have a relationship with the man, not even one of mutual.....respect? understanding? He didn't know what he had with Bull. It certainly wasn't a true friendship, but Dorian begrudgingly admitted it was something close to it. At least in the privacy of his own head. 

 

He sighted, taking a long sip of disgusting ale, fighting back the nausea.

 

"There's nothing going on. Don't you have some dummies to destroy?"

 

"That was pathetic. You couldn't convince anyone with that. And besides, it's been weeks since you came here and slummed it with us common folk. Normally you're drinking expensive wine in your little hidey-hole."

 

"It's become rather difficult as of late. Josephine has barred me from the cellar."

 

The qunari scoffed, knowing full that it had happened months ago.

 

"Please, everyone knows the Inquisitor gives you free access to his own stash. So, again, what happened? I'm not going away, Vint. Might as well spill it."

 

He didn't know what came over him, but he started talking. Perhaps he'd drunk more ale than he thought, a distinct possibility that had happened a few times before. Perhaps his tolerance of it had gone down, after all the good wine. Or perhaps he was just tired. Tired of keeping everything to himself, when he wanted, _needed_ , to let it out.

 

So he told Bull. If his ancestors knew he was confiding in a blasted qunari, they would roll in their graves. But if his time in the Inquisition had taught him anything, was to never judge a book by its cover.

 

He told him about his announcement to his fellow mage, to his lover, about his desire to go back to Tevinter. Wanting to change it, to use the disdain, the stain of what Corypheus was, to try and better his country, despite how impossible a task it seemed. It had happened weeks ago, but he'd started to notice the consequences of his idea only days ago. In his defense, it had been a rather hectic few weeks, after the Arbor Wilds and the Well of Souls. But now, with the magister of ancient Tevinter dead and gone, and the haze of the victory fading, he'd noticed.

 

Gone were the private looks. Gone were the small favors. His favorite wine requisitioned for "personal" use, when everybody knew that Trevelyan didn't drink, having a low tolerance from his time in the Circle. He saw less and less of him too. Before, he always seemed to have time for him, never rushed anything when Dorian was involved. It didn't matter if he was planning the latest scouting party to retrieve resources or the siege of Adamant Fortress itself. He always had time to come by his little alcove, asking about his day, a tray of food and a glass of wine ready for him, because he knew that Dorian was often too engrossed in his books to eat properly. No more rare books that mysteriously appeared on his red couch, no more new robes every time his own were damaged. He hadn't realized just how much Alexander doted upon him, than in the moment he had to go to the Undercroft for the first time in months to get a new set of light armor.

 

Not that they didn't spent time together at all anymore. They still shared quarters, something they'd agreed upon after a spectacular fight and the fear Dorian had experienced at Adamant. And his amatus still _acted_ like everything was normal. But he was pulling away, closing himself off. And that....that hurt more than he could describe.

 

"Well, that's a bunch of nugshit."

 

Anger flared. How dare he?! He should've known this was a bad idea. He was close to hurling a fireball at him when he noticed his smirk. He'd done that on purpose.

 

"As I see it you have two options. Well three, but I know you couldn't stand to ask the Boss to leave the Inquisition for you."

 

A chill went up his spine. No, anything but that. Alex had already offered and Dorian promptly refused. He could never ask him that. As much as the man hated politics, Dorian knew he'd grown to like his position. 

 

"As Inquisitor I can change things, Dorian! Can you imagine? If Leliana becomes Divine, if my endorsement really matters, she'll free the mages. No more Circles. That's....that's a dream come true, love," he'd said, after the first time he'd been asked his opinion about new chantry leadership.

That, of course, had been said to him, in private. Alexander was far too intelligent to ever let slip something like that in public. 

No, in public he said that the mages had earned a substantial reward after their effort in saving the world. No one knew he'd desired mage freedom from the beginning. 

No one else, but him knew of his experience in the Circle. 

Of his first love, torn from his arms in the middle of the night, to be made Tranquil after a Templar attempted to force himself in her and she defended herself. 

No one knew of his family's secret hatred for Templars, at least his direct relatives. 

His sister who couldn't brandish a bow anymore, because when the Templars came for her younger brother, they broke her arm to pry the little mage from her grasp.

How his mother had threatened, bribed and pleaded when one of their spies inside the Circle had told her, they were planning on making her youngest son Tranquil, because he was just too powerful, too unafraid to stay quietly under their control.

How his parents got him out of that accursed place whenever they could, while his elder brother and sister, both trained rouges, quietly dealt with those Templars that got a little too close to their caged prince.

 

Beauty was a curse in the Circle, something that he discovered against his amatus's will, during one of the rare times Cole turned his gaze on their illustrious leader instead of the inner circle of the Inquisition. Not that something had ever happened to him directly. 

Rumors of disappearances whenever someone touched him one time too many had been rampant, at the time. And that little nugget of information he'd gotten from Leliana, one night when she was in a sharing mood.

But he knew Alexander Trevelyan would die, before he allowed anyone to cage him again.

 

And now....now mage freedom wasn't just something abstract, something to be strived for. 

It wasn't even a mere possibility, a wish sometime far in the future. No, it was a real thing. A very real edict, the first of the newly elected Divine Victoria, already written and published by Leliana.

He couldn't possibly tear Trevelyan away from this. Not to go to Tevinter with him, abandon everything he'd built, to stand in the sidelines while Dorian attempted to reason with centuries of ingrained arrogance and corruption.

And that was even setting aside the fact that in Tevinter, outsiders had no legal status. Even as a mage he'd had to pose as his vassal, or worse his indentured servant, a term used for timed slavery. No, he couldn't. He would never let his beloved go through an humiliation like that.

 

"Either you go back, turn Tevinter on his ass and regret losing him for the rest of your life, or stay and regret not attempting to better your country for the rest of your life."

 

"Your grasp of the obvious is astounding," he said, pouring every ounce of spite he possessed in his words.

 

"You just have to decide which regret you can live with and which you can't."

 

"That simple? Why didn't I think of that! Truly an advice to be recorded for ages to come."

 

"You know I'm right Vint. Just imagine what it would be like and make your choice."

 

"And how would I go about that, you lummox? No one knows the future."

 

"Use that pretty head of yours. You're good at that. At least you claim you are."

Dorian snorted, having half a mind to just throw his drink to the grey idiot and be done with it. Truly why did he think this was a good idea?

 

"Scenario one. You stay. You bear all the prejudice with your usual grace. You two stay together. But this is the Inquisition. Every time Tevinter does something stupid, you'll hear of it. Every time you'll think, what if I'd gone there and tried to change it. Would I have succeeded? Would Tevinter be better now?"

 

"Cheery."

 

"Scenario two, you stay, give up everything for him, but eventually he leaves you. Many relationships end after all, why not yours? You go back, but it's too late to change anything, Corypheus is long forgotten. You're left with nothing."

 

He swallowed, his gaze firmly planted on his tankard.

 

"Scenario three. You go, they kill you. Because we both know what happens when "the reform talk" begins."

 

True. He himself had witnessed the consequences of fighting against the status quo a couple of times.

 

"Scenario four. You go and fail. You've lost your lover for nothing."

 

"Isn't there something else you should be doing, instead of being such a ray of sunshine?"

 

"Scenario five. You go and whatever the outcome, I steal him from you."

 

The rage he felt at that moment, made him heat up his tankard unconsciously, the liquid quickly starting to boil. He knew that Iron Bull would jump at the opportunity. The redhead mage was an incurable flirt and Bull had never hidden his desire for him.

 

"Relax. I wanted to see if you were still listening."

 

"Scenario five, you go, you manage to get Tevinter off it's ass, but then what? We both know how well your kind is treated there. Unlikely to find men there who want a relationship, let alone one like you and the boss."

 

"Scenario six, Tevinter becomes better, but it takes you years. Trevelyan waits for a couple, maybe even a bit more. But one day, in one of the letters you so diligently exchange, he tells you he found someone else."

 

He can almost picture it.

 

_Dorian,_

_I'm sorry. I know I said I'd wait for you to come home. And I tried, I really did._

_I loved you with all my heart_ , the letter says, the past tense already cutting him deep, _but it's been years. We both know you're not finished, not by a long shot._

_I've met someone. He_ , or she, Dorian reminds himself, _can't hold a candle to you of course, one cannot improve upon perfection,_ a joke, because Alex is like him, hides under his words and sarcasm, _but he/she makes me happy._

_Words can't express how sorry I am._

_I hope we'll remain friends._

_Alexander Trevelyan_

 

His imagination is cruel enough. The letter, even as nonexistent as it is, makes him gasp and he presses his hand in front of his mouth, before Bull hears something else.

He turns, forcing himself to fight back the pain.

The thought, the mere idea, of Alex, his lover, his amatus, the first man he could ever openly be with, the first who wanted more from him than a few nights of quick sex, with someone else, has him reeling. He feels like he's drowning, as he pictures those blue eyes, those striking blue eyes of his, normally filled with adoration and desire, with love, a look he'd always secretly hoped someone, someday, would give him, turned to someone else. Not him. Never again on him.

That body, the one he'd come to know better than his own, in someone else's arms. That attention, that care, but still deviant enough it's always new, always exciting, for someone else.

The love that Trevelyan expresses like it's as natural as breathing, the _I love you_ said in public, uncaring of who was listening.

He feels like someone is choking him, when he imagines this. Someone else in his place.

In their quarters. Dancing together at the Winter Palace. _I'm sorry_.

The hours spent in each other's company, even in silence. _I truly loved you._

The fear when he didn't follow him at Adamant. The frantic sex afterwards. The need to reaffirm he's still there. With him. Still his. _I've met someone._

Turning away from the Well of Souls. Because _he_ asked. Because Alex didn't trust the witch with the knowledge, but was hesitant about the servitude to Mythal. It was still Dorian that turned him away from those Maker forsaken waters. They both know many would try to kill him, if they knew just how much undue influence he held over their Inquisitor. _I hope we'll remain friends._

 

Dorian bites back a sob, he's in public, worse he's with Bull, he reminds himself.

Bile is rising up his throat and he'd like to pretend the nausea is from the dwarven ale.

Curse his imagination. 

He can see it. He can even see his reply.

_Alexander,_ not amatus, not anymore. Never again.

_A shame, but I understand. It's truly been a lot of time._ I hoped, like a fool. Yet again, I was a fool to hope. I never learn, do I?

_Time for me to be amazing again on my own._ Please, don't. Don't leave me. 

_My suitors will be elated by such news I'm sure. Ever since coming back, there are men falling at my feet every time I walk by. Funny how the wind changes, no?_ They only want my influence. And I can't. Not after you. No one will ever compare. No one will ever come close to you or what we had.

_Dorian._ I love you. Please, please tell me it's not true.

 

His head is swimming and he's sure Bull knows, because he hasn't said anything in a while. But his mind is running in circles and he's wishing he'd say something. Anything.

Because he continues. A life alone. Or worse, in a fit of depression he complies to his father. Marries. Never mind that a woman's naked body does nothing to him.

Because what was the point?Return back to a life of countless meaningless encounters? No.

Drown himself in alcohol?

_Promise you'll only drink with me, Dorian._

_Worried for my health, amatus?_

_I plan on making the most of our time here. It wouldn't do if you encourage an early grave, love._

No, he can't. He would just hear Alex reprimand him, in his own head. Like he's doing now.

 

"Scenario seven," Bull says, mercifully. 

Anything, anything to get out of his spiraling thoughts.

"Tevinter's better. Trevelyan waits. But we both know he lives a dangerous life. He dies while you're away. And of course, you blame yourself. Because he doesn't go anywhere without you and you weren't there."

 

No. It was better before, Dorian decides. He can't help the single tear, wiped away immediately, before anyone notices, even though he knows there's no way the former Ben-Hassrath hasn't seen it. This, this is a recurring nightmare of his. The stuff demons try to tempt him with.

_You need to keep him safe._

_You promised you'd protect him._

_You need more power._

_He'll die._

_I can help, if you let me in._

It is a scenario that feels all too real. It hits him too deep, too close. He tries to stand up, to move away. Because this, this is too much. Better he'd be with someone else, than dead. Anything is better than his Alex dead.

But Bull holds him down, his considerable physical strength pinning him to the chair. 

He could use magic, they both know it, but the big lummox continues, before Dorian seriously considers it.

 

"Scenario eight. You come back victorious. He waited. You get to be together again."

 

He knows better than to expect something cheery. Bull is nothing if not brutally honest.

 

"But it's still been, five, ten years? That's a lot of strain. And sometime, someday, you'll have a fight. And in anger he says, that since Tevinter is so important you should go back. He won't mean it of course. But it's too late, now you know. Underneath he will always resent you for leaving. For making Tevinter more important than him. Because he knows that he would've put you before the Inquisition, if you'd allowed him to, while you didn't."  

 

It takes him a while to speak. The pain he's feeling is unfamiliar, new. He'd never loved before.

This...this is still new to him. The feeling of being bound so tightly to another person.

And he's drowning in it.

 

"That doesn't exactly help me."

 

"Yes. It does. Pick one. It's not a matter of doing something you'll regret. At this point you're bound to regret something. But which one can you live with? Leaving Tevinter to rot in its own depravity? Or leaving your _amatus_?"

The Tevene words sounds foreign on him, his accent feels wrong.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that the qunari knows Dorian's language. That he knows what the word means. 

_Beloved._ He never told Alexander what it means. He didn't have the courage to. He always postponed telling him. He asked, of course. Several times. He stopped after he told him he's leaving.

 

"Here's something that should help you decide. If you tell the Boss though, I'll throw you from the battlements, preferably before Red shivs me. I'm not supposed to know about this, but old habits die hard."

 

He passes him a parchment. A rather long scroll. Written by Trevelyan and Leliana both. Messages, he realizes. Correspondence, between them. He's seen such papers before. Whenever Alexander is with him, the advisors send papers like this one, instead of trying to coax him into coming to them. They long since learned it was an exercise in futility.

 

_The idea is certainly valid. Extending marriage to all people will certainly garner you a lot of favor. Hawke would be extremely grateful, as well. I imagine Cousland would be the first to come here, after all these years with his elf._

 

_I'm not exactly doing this out of pure selflessness, Leliana._  

 

_Josie would have a fit if you said that out loud, Inquisitor._

 

_Well, it's not entirely selfish. I truly believe marriage should be a celebration, a desire to tell the world you want a person and only that person, for life. No matter who it is. Elf, human, dwarf, qunari, man, woman. Mage._

 

_I should write this down. Work it into the speech. You've spent too much time with Varric._

 

_I know. Dorian tells me constantly._

 

_When are you going to_ _~~tell him~~?_ _ask him?_

 

_I want to wait until Corypheus is dead. But I've asked my mother for her old engagement ring. The one with the family crest went to Maxwell, but that's all right. I prefer my mother's anyway. My parents married for love anyway. I'll take it as a good luck charm._

 

_If you want to refit that discreetly...you know you can't just walk into a jeweler without alerting the entire orlesian nobility._

_It's good that it's not " if we defeat Corypheus" anymore._

 

_Josephine is already on it._

_I guess now, I've truly something to look forward to._

 

_Inquisitor if we manage to pull this off..._

 

_I know. I imagine the Empress will be very grateful as well._

 

_I myself know a lot of people who would benefit from this. Human and elves, in particular._

 

_You're not the only one. My sister. Delilah has something going on with an elf. Mother tell me she's happy again. She never truly got over the fact she can't use her bow anymore._

 

_I have only one request, Inquisitor._

 

_Let's be specific. Nothing retaining children or kittens._

 

_Inquisitor...._

 

_Fine. What is it?_

 

_I want to be the one to hold the ceremony. No negotiation._

 

_Of course, Leliana. Maker knows just how many times I've come crawling to you whenever I needed help._

 

_Don't say that to the others. People will start to think you have favoritisms._

 

_Us redheads need to stick together._

 

_Have you thought about a location?_

 

_No. I've just gotten over the fact it's a possibility at all. When I was young, I always imagined marrying by the sea. There's a private beach at our summer estate that I always loved going to. But Dorian gets tremendously seasick. So, no water._

 

_Private or public?_

 

_Maker, Leliana. I don't even know if he'll say yes! And this is all speculation until you become Divine._

 

_Cassandra would grant you such a thing as well, you know that. Her romantic heart wouldn't miss such an opportunity. And he will. We all see how much he adores you._

 

_A man can dream. Do you think the messenger ever reads our little exchanges?_

 

_I choose my people well. And they're well disciplined._

 

_Bull, I know what you're doing with the servants. Stop immediately, or you're going to find yourself missing a rather important part of your anatomy very soon. And if anyone hears of this conversation I'll do something worse._

 

The parchment had ended, leaving Dorian struggling to remember how to breathe.

How? Why?

Maker, he knew Alexander was serious, he knew he loved him, but this? Actually planning, thinking about it?

Marriage? With him? Truly?

The shock was profound, spreading to his whole body. He had to put down the scroll, hiding away his hands trembling.

He never thought.....he'd never dreamed.....not even in his wildest fantasies...not even when he was younger, when he was still naive, hopeful, he'd find someone, anyone who could love him exactly as he was. 

 

When he met Trevelyan, when they'd started this, he already thought he was dreaming. Someone wanted more. And not just anyone. A noble. A fellow mage. Someone who not only didn't fear him, like other southerners, but welcomed him. Someone who shared a lot of his interests, his ideas. Someone who understood what is was like to have to hide. The Templars for him, Tevinter society for Dorian.

He never told anyone, but the truth was he hadn't hoped to survive the fight. It was the reason he volunteered at the battle of Haven. Alexander healed much more, than an angry runaway son.

He healed a disillusioned man, who was resigned to a life of misery and solitude. He'd come here to go out with a bang, to at least do some good, but he'd found something far more precious.

 

"You should see your face, Vint. You look like a fish."

 

Startled, he looked to the qunari. He'd forgotten about him, engrossed in his own thoughts.

 

"He wants to...how long have you...."

 

He wanted to chastise himself for his stammering voice. He was a Tevinter Altus, not a bloody commoner. He couldn't show weakness. Especially in front of a damned qunari. Not that it mattered, anymore.

 

"A week before the Arbor Wilds. Had to stop, though. Red was very clear."

 

A month. This was a month old. How much time before that, had they been planning this? How much time had Alexander thought about this? Maker, the thought of ....it was making him dizzy.

 

"If you knew about this, why didn't you tell me? Instead of all those fucking scenarios of yours?"

 

"Because nothing's changed Dorian. You'll still regret."

 

No. That wasn't true. Everything had changed. Every single thing. His world had been rocked to the core.

Leliana. Josephine. The Iron Bull. How many people knew? How many were in on it?

Cullen? The man had been giving him odd looks lately. Sera? Varric, knew. No doubt about it. 

And he....he'd said he wanted to leave. Maker. 

He understood a lot better now. His Alexander, his amatus was doing exactly the same thing Dorian would have done. Waiting for the sword to fall on his head. For the inevitable blow to come. 

He was trying to protect himself, like he would've done. 

By retreating, building up the shields again.

But still present. Still there. Because the thought of giving up completely was too much, too hard to bear.

Knowing, not experiencing everything until the last second, would be worse.

He felt stupid. He should've realized immediately. Trevelyan was much like him, on many aspects. 

 

Dorian stood up and this time Bull let him. Good thing too, because this time he wouldn't have let him stop him.

 

He'd made his decision.

 

Now he had an Inquisitor to find. And an answer to an unvoiced question to give.

 

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: I'm just going to say it. Wow. Thank you for all the kudos and the comments. I also want to say that I am now planning for a sequel of this. I am not sure though, if I should just add it as a new chapter or as a new entry. Thoughts?


End file.
